


For a love beyond all keeping

by withdraw



Category: Flashpoint (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Derogatory Language, Forced, Forced Ejaculation, M/M, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Porn Video, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, creation of nonconsensual pornography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-04 23:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withdraw/pseuds/withdraw
Summary: Spike survived, but he wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.  Recovery is a long, hard road.*Please heed the tags and warnings.*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I really hesitate to post this. It’s far outside my usual fare. Please heed the tags and warnings. I tried to tag everything I could think of, but if I missed something please let me know and I will add the tag. I don't want anyone walking into this one blind. 
> 
> **If you want to skip the graphic depictions of rape, please skip to chapter 2**
> 
> The title is taken from “Michelangelo” by Emmylou Harris.

Spike stared at the man holding a gun to his head, wondering how he could have missed the warning signs.It was evening, the sun just going down, and he had driven out to the edges of the city where a man was offering his wine kit for sale online.Spike had requested the day off tomorrow.It was the time of year when he took a day to set the wine fermenting, a way to stay close to his dad after his death.But last year, the bottles had broken and he needed a new set.The man online was offering them for a steal.Spike just had to pick them up, so he’d driven up the long drive to a little, airy looking cottage just before dusk and knocked on the door.

 

Nothing had seemed off about the man when he answered.He was a big man and seemed quiet and restrained as Spike had introduced himself.He had been led inside.

 

“I keep it all down in the basement,” the man had said, gesturing for Spike to lead the way down the stairs.Spike had grinned as he passed him.

 

“What else is a basement for, if not wine?” he’d joked lightly.

 

And then the man had pushed him.

 

Spike had fallen with a stumbling crash, landing on the hard concrete of the basement floor with a pained wheeze.The man had been on him before he could recover, pinning his arms behind him and slapping cuffs on his wrists.Then he had stood up and drawn the gun.

 

Now, Spike stared down the gun barrel at the man.He was grinning a little, pleased with himself and not at all winded by the brief tussle.In contrast, Spike had lost his breath when he landed and was still trying to get it back.

 

“What’s this about?” he managed to gasp out as he pulled himself up to his knees.The man reached around Spike, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.He kept the gun aimed steadily at Spike’s head with one hand while he fumbled the wallet open with the other.

 

“Michelangelo,” he read from Spike’s ID.He smirked a little.Then Spike’s badge slipped from where he kept it tucked on his off days, and the man’s smirk turned into a full on smile.He looked like a child who had just been given a long-awaited gift. 

 

“You’re a cop,” he said, with a little laugh.“An angel cop.How perfect!”

 

“Look,” Spike said, trying to keep his voice calm.“You don’t need to use that gun.You haven’t done anything today that can’t be undone.”

 

“Oh, you’re not here for me to kill,” the man said.He was still grinning, a slightly crazed grin that made Spike nervous.If he had seen this in the man when he opened the door, he would have turned around and left.

 

“No,” the man continued.“You’re here for me to _break_.”

 

He threw the wallet away and pulled a knife from his pocket, flicking it open with a little clicking sound.Spike knew he needed to get away now.He scrambled on his knees, trying to get his feet under him to stand up.The man kicked him, sending him sprawling.Spike landed on one side, wrenching his shoulder as he did and rolled to his chest, face down.The man pounced, wedging one knee into the small of Spike’s back to keep him in place.Spike squirmed.

 

“I suggest you stay still,” the man said softly, waving the knife by Spike’s head so he could see it.He placed the knife at the collar of Spike’s shirt and ran it along his shoulder and down his arm.The shirt parted easily.The knife was so sharp the man didn’t have to put any pressure on it to cut Spike’s shirt away.Spike stilled as he worked, scared of what damage a knife that sharp could do.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” Spike said frantically.“Don’t do this.”

 

The man had cut his shirt off entirely now, Spike felt.Cool air hit his skin, making him shiver.The man took the ragged strips of the shirt and reached up to Spike’s chin, forcing his mouth open.Spike could only try desperately to shake his head as the man stuffed the fabric past his lips.The fabric filled his mouth so much that Spike had to focus on breathing through his nose so he wouldn’t choke.His jaw ached from the shirt pushing it open and his mouth was instantly dry. 

 

Spike realized suddenly that the man had pulled off his shoes and was now cutting off his jeans.He tried to shout, but he could only make an inarticulate cry and shake his head. 

 

The jeans fell apart as easily as the shirt did, and the man tossed them aside carelessly.He slid the knife under the waistband of Spike’s underwear.Spike looked over his shoulder at him, scared and panting through his nose.The man smiled back at him.With a flick of the knife, he was suddenly naked on the concrete floor. 

 

The man knelt on him again, pinning Spike’s cuffed hands into his back, and fumbled with something just out of eyesight.Spike strained to look up over his shoulder at him.The man was unbuttoning his own jeans and pushing them down towards his knees.His penis bobbed between his legs, half hard.He reached down and stroked it slowly, bringing himself fully erect.When Spike saw it, he wriggled and squirmed, shaking his head and trying to say _no, no, no_ , but all he could hear was muffled grunts.The man was so heavy, Spike couldn’t get away, the knees in his back pushing the breath out of him. 

 

The man shifted, nudging Spike’s legs apart with a foot and holding him down with two hands on Spike’s hips.Spike struggled frantically.The man shifted forward and Spike felt something big and blunt nudging at his entrance. 

 

“Now,” the man hissed, voice full of barely contained excitement. “Let’s see how much the angel cop can take.”

 

He thrust forward with one sharp, quick movement and Spike screamed.He felt like he was being split open, like fire burning in every inch of him.Another thrust and it was like hot glass up his spine and he was dying, Spike was dying.The man set a brutal pace and every snap of his hips drove him into the concrete and dragged a pained cry from Spike.He felt something give inside him and the thrusts became more of a slide, as something dripped down Spike’s legs.Blood, he thought; something had torn inside. 

 

Spike tried one last, desperate time to fight.He reared up, trying to push the man off balance if he could.It almost worked.The man grabbed Spike’s hands where they were cuffed behind his back and lifted them up until Spike had to bend at the waist, putting his head to the ground again before the man popped his shoulders out of their sockets. 

 

The angle of the man’s penis gliding through him changed.It hit something inside, and through the pain and fear and rage, Spike felt the swoop in his stomach of arousal and felt his own member twitch.As the man drove into him again, he couldn’t help the surprised grunt that came out.

 

The man noticed.He slowed his pace to slide into Spike with a slow push and listened as Spike half moaned, half wailed.He reached around Spike’s waist, fondling his half hard penis with a rough hand.

 

“Oh ho,” the man cried out gleefully. “So you’re not an angel cop after all!This will be fun.”

 

He resumed, each thrust hard and sharp, making sure that each one hit Spike inside and even though he felt like he was falling apart, piece by painful piece, he also felt the slow build and hated himself for it.His body betrayed him.He closed his eyes against it. 

 

The man grabbed his hips with both hands, pulling Spike backward so that the slap of skin echoed around the concrete.Spike let himself be moved, each pull and push grinding his cheek against the floor.The man suddenly buried himself deep and Spike felt him spurt and twitch inside him.The man let out a triumphant cry.He stayed inside Spike for a moment as his orgasm finished, then pulled out, wiping himself off with the rags of Spike’s clothes and tucking himself up in his pants again.Spike stayed as he was, with his ass in the air and his face on the floor, unable to move after the violence of the rape.

 

The man finished putting himself together again and looked at Spike.

 

“Now you,” he said.“Let’s see how much of a filthy slut you really are.”

 

He grabbed Spike by the throat with one hand, pulling him up so that Spike knelt again.He didn’t let go.He kept one hand wrapped around Spike’s neck and the other pushed in at his ass, invading again, opening him again and even though his fingers were smaller, it stung and throbbed.Spike whimpered against the hand at his throat as the man’s fingers breached him and slid inside. 

 

The man’s hand squeezed his throat, cutting off his air and closing around his pulse.Spike jerked, instinct taking over as he tried to pull away, but that only drove the fingers deeper into his insides and then they were there, at his prostate, rubbing and fondling.The hand around his throat squeezed and Spike felt his vision going black and the muscles in his body turning to lead.The fingers inside rubbed and poked and just as he was about to black out, Spike’s orgasm rushed through him with a wet splatter. 

 

Spike came back to himself as the man’s hands disappeared, leaving him empty with a rush of air.The man backed away from him to clean off his fingers and Spike found himself face to face with a camera, sitting on a tripod with a red light blinking on one side. 

 

“That’s right,” the man said, catching Spike’s gaze.“Say hello to your adoring fans.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was a sunny, spring day when Greg arrived at the station.With Spike gone for the day, Team One was on call as a last resort, so after the early morning workout, Greg had a quiet day of paperwork to look forward to while Ed ran the team through the obstacle course.He grinned as he listened to Ed and Raf joke as they showered and changed.They had been running flat out the last few weeks.It would be nice to have a change of pace.

 

His phone rang.He pulled it from his locker as he settled his shirt around his shoulders. 

 

“Dean,” he answered lightly.“Shouldn’t you be in school?” 

 

“I am, class starts in five minutes,” Dean answered in a rush.“Dad…is Spike there?”Greg frowned, confused.

 

“No, he has the day off.What do you need?”

 

“Do you know where he is?”Dean sounded upset.Greg’s frown deepened.

 

“No.What’s wrong?”There was silence on the other end of the line.Greg could image Dean on the other end, worrying at his lip with his teeth like he did when he was thinking.He left the locker room, to the relative quiet of the hallway.“Son, if something’s wrong, you need to tell me.I won’t be mad.”

 

“There’s a video going around at school,” Dean finally said.“Some senior found it last night and sent it to everyone.I’ll send you a screenshot.It— it looks like—I think it might be Spike.”

 

Greg went still.Dean was trying to back down from his statement, but Greg knew he wouldn’t have mentioned it if he wasn’t sure.Whatever this video was, Spike was in it.

 

“What kind of video are we talking about?” Greg asked, his voice artificially calm. 

 

“It’s—it’s—just look at the picture I’m sending, okay?And Dad?I want you to know I didn’t watch it.I would never watch something like that.”With every word out of Dean’s mouth, Greg’s sense of calm brought on by the bright, sunny day dwindled, replaced with a shivery, icy feeling. 

 

“I know.I’m sure Spike’s fine,” he lied.“Go back to class, don’t you have a math test today?”

 

“Yeah.Thanks, Dad.Text me when you find him.”And with that, Dean hung up before Greg could say his own goodbyes. 

 

His phone buzzed as Dean’s text came through.Dean had sent a screenshot of his phone, a text to Dean from someone named Tyler.It was a thumbnail of a video titled _Slutty Cop Gets Fucked Hard_!Greg recognized Spike instantly.He knelt in the center of the thumbnail, naked and pale on a concrete floor.He had something stuffed in his mouth and his hands were pulled behind him.He was hard, his penis red and erect between his legs.Another man held him by the throat.Spike’s eyes were barely open and it looked like the hand at his throat was all that was holding him up.Greg had seen enough people lose consciousness to know that this was a picture of the moment before he passed out.The man’s other hand was hidden behind Spike’s body.Greg didn’t need to be told what it was doing. 

 

Greg ran to Winnie, startling her with his urgency.

 

“Get a trace on Spike’s phone.Are any teams near his place?”

 

“Team Three is,” she said.“They just finished a call.”

 

“I need Donna to check his place and report back immediately.Sooner than immediately.Five minutes ago. _Now_ , Winnie!”Winnie’s eyes went wide and she scrambled to obey.Greg left her and went back to the locker room.The others were finishing up, still laughing and teasing.They fell silent when they saw Greg’s face.

 

“Boss?” Sam asked.

 

“We need to find Spike,” he said.He held out his phone so they could all see.They took in the image, quiet and shocked.On his right, Raf was ashen. 

 

“Winnie is tracing his phone.Donna’s team is checking his place.As soon as we know where, we’ll go.Sam, get Jules.Everyone else, gear up.”

 

Sam and Raf dispersed, but Greg caught Ed by the elbow before he could leave with the others.

 

“Make sure we bring clothes for him,” he said.Ed nodded and went to Spike’s locker, grim and determined.Greg went back to Winnie.She was fielding multiple calls, looking hassled.

 

“Boss?” she said when she saw Greg.“Donna reports Spike and his car are both gone, but his apartment is locked and hasn’t been tampered with.I’m getting multiple reports of an abducted police officer?Descriptions match Spike, but the callers won’t say where their information is coming from.”Yeah, he bet they wouldn’t.She paused, rolling over to another computer screen.“The trace needs some more time.Best I can narrow it down right now is on the outskirts of the city, north.”

 

“Good enough,” he said.“Let us know when you have an exact location.Tell Donna to meet us there.And if anyone sends you a video, don’t watch.Just see if you can find whoever posted it.”

 

* * *

 

 

After, the man had thrown Spike to the floor again, cuffed one ankle to a bolt screwed into the concrete and left, turning out the light and leaving Spike with only the blinking red light of the camera.Spike lay on the floor unmoving, strangely adrift in the dark.Whether he lay there for minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell.He thought that maybe he should be crying, but every time he thought about it, he came up blank instead.His mind seemed quiet and empty, like who he was before he came to this house had fallen silent.The rags in his mouth grew wet and slimy with saliva and snot and he had to focus on not gagging.His shoulders ached and his muscles slowly froze and every time his mind came back to him, he cast it off again, out into the depths somewhere else to drift and drift and drift.

 

The man returned sometime later, wearing fresh clothes and a smug smile.He carried the gun in one hand but dropped it next to Spike’s head.Spike flinched as it hit the ground with a clatter.

 

“You’re a hit!” he crowed.“I knew you would be.No one likes cops anymore.They’d rather see you on your knees than on the street.”He went to check that the camera was properly placed and still taping, then stood in front of where Spike lay on the ground, nudging him with one boot.

 

“So get on your knees, where you belong,” he said. He pulled Spike up by his hair and grabbed the rags from Spike’s mouth, flinging them aside.His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and pushing his pants down enough to release his penis.It popped up, already erect and swollen, eye level with Spike’s face.Spike looked away. 

 

The man grabbed him by the chin, jerking his head around and wrenching his mouth open.He pulled Spike’s head down, forcing his penis past Spike’s lips.It filled his mouth, hot and hard, hitting the back of his throat and making him choke.Instinct took over and he tried to pull away, but the man had his head in both hands, his fingers tangled painfully in Spike’s hair. He held Spike’s head still as he bucked into him.Spike gagged and choked, unable to do anything but take air when he could.The man’s panting gasps filled his ears, mixing with the sound of his own gurgling breaths. 

 

Finally, the man pulled away and he was able to suck in one blissfully clear breath before the rags were stuffed forcefully back in his mouth.

 

“They were right,” the man panted.“Your mouth was built to be fucked.”He grabbed Spike by the hair again and threw him to the ground.Spike fell heavily and didn’t struggle when the man pounced on him again.He grabbed Spike’s waist, pulling his butt up and pushing his head down, then entered Spike again with a snap of his hips. 

 

The harsh, fast thrusting from last night was gone.Instead, the man set a languorous, slow pace that was somehow worse.The damage from last night had set and swollen and each inch of the man’s slow slide felt like hot coals.Spike wasn’t screaming or struggling this time.He stared at the gun on the floor by his head and wondered if it would go off, if this would end.He wished that it would.The man thrust hard suddenly, once, sending pain sparking through his body.Spike disconnected, casting his mind somewhere far away.He left his abused body behind and found somewhere else, somewhere quiet and warm. 

 

Somewhere safe.

 

* * *

 

 

“He’s not hiding.”Winnie’s voice came through Greg’s headset, furious and disgusted.Someone must have sent her a link to the video, Greg realized.“It’s like he wants to be found.”

 

“I guess he figures it’s a sure way to become famous,” Jules commented.“Kidnap and rape a cop and stream the video?And it worked.Everyone’s heard about it, or seen it.”Jules was right.Winnie had been inundated with calls.It seemed that the whole city knew. 

 

“Well, in among everyone, I had a call from his neighbors,” Winnie said.“Mr. Mazer says a green sedan with a robot decal in the back window has been sitting in his neighbor’s driveway since yesterday evening.”

 

“Spike’s car,” Raf cut in.

 

“And he said he saw the quote ‘nice young man in that terrible video’ stop by yesterday.It matches the trace on Spike’s phone,” Winnie finished.“The address is coming to you now.Team Three will meet you there.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Spike’s mind returned to his body, the man was still at his back, still in him.The slow rhythm had slowed even more, the man pushing into him inch by excruciating inch.It seemed this would never end, that every moment of the rest of his life he would be here, on the cold floor of the basement with the man splitting him open.Something snapped in Spike.He keened, a high, wailing noise that he couldn’t seem to stop.

 

“Oh good,” the man said, sliding into Spike until Spike took him fully inside.“You’re back with us.”He reached for Spike’s penis, where it hung limp and flaccid.“Nothing?Maybe I need to up the stakes.”

 

He reached to one side and grabbed the gun, then pointed it at Spike’s head.

 

“Maybe I should kill you as I cum,” he said.

 

_That would work_ , Spike thought. _Do that_.

 

* * *

 

 

Greg sent Team Three to secure the perimeter around the little house and took Donna and the rest of Team One through the front door.They cleared the first floor quickly, then Jules, Sam, and Raf went upstairs, while Donna, Greg, and Ed went down the stairs to the basement. 

 

Spike and the man from the video were in the middle of the room.The man leaned over Spike, with a gun to his head, his hips moving rhythmically.He didn’t stop as they stormed in.Instead, he picked up his pace, each forward movement driving Spike into the ground. 

 

“Sir,” Greg called out loudly.“I’m going to count to three and if you don’t stop, then my teammate will shoot you.” 

 

“I don’t think so,” the man said.“You’re going to watch me fuck your friend, and if you don’t then I’ll kill him.”Greg ignored him.

 

“Three…Two…”The man shuddered suddenly with a satisfied groan, his hips moving in an electrified, stuttering way.His finger fell on the trigger. 

 

A shot rang out.The man’s head bloomed red and he collapsed over Spike’s back. 


	2. Chapter 2

The man moved in him, slow and relentless, and he felt the cold metal of the gun at his head.There was a thunder of footsteps overhead, followed by a crash as the door was kicked in.His team, Spike knew.Suddenly, the man resumed the brutal pace from the night before.His thrusts lit Spike up inside with white-hot pain.His mind tumbled.He couldn’t focus to follow the sounds of conversation around him. 

 

The man’s movement stuttered and Spike felt him explode inside him.There was the sharp crack of gunfire and the man collapsed across his back, pinning his down.His hands pressed painfully into his spine under the weight of the man’s body.He couldn’t move even if he’d tried.The man’s penis twitched inside him as he died.Blood seeped through Spike’s hair, dripping into his eyes.He heard the boss call out his name, cut off by a woman, Donna.

 

“You’re his family,” Donna said.“He sees you every day.I’ve got this.Go bring me his extra clothes and make sure no one is around when I walk him out.”Footsteps receded, leaving the room quiet.Spike couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.There didn’t seem to be enough air and the rags in his mouth were suffocating him.

 

“Easy, Spike,” Donna’s voice sounded close, low and calm.Her fingers pulled the rags gently from his mouth and she used them to wipe the blood away from his eyes.“Focus on my voice.Just breathe.”

 

She lifted the dead man off him, pushing him to the side.The man’s penis slid out of him with an obscene squelch.Semen dribbled coldly down his thighs. 

 

“I’m going to help you sit up now, okay?” Donna continued.Spike couldn’t answer her.He still couldn’t breathe and he felt blank and empty.She eased him upright slowly, then undid the cuffs on his wrists and ankle. 

 

After that, time seemed to crash around him strangely and he bobbed along like a boat caught in a storm.He could only catch snatches here and there—Donna, helping pull a shirt over his head, then holding her hand tightly as she led him out into the bright morning sun, then nothing again until the hospital, bent over the hospital bed in a paper gown as the doctor slid two fingers into him, palpating for damage and he couldn’t seem to let go of Donna’s hand, was crushing it with his.Donna crouched over the other side of the bed, squeezing back with all her might and keeping up a low calm litany: _eyes on me Spike breathe with me you’re safe now_.Another wave of time took him and he was in the hospital shower, letting hot water sluice over him until it ran cold, then time drowned him again and he was gone.

 

He came back to himself as Donna led him by the hand into his apartment.It was bright with the mid-afternoon sun and seemed to shine, warm and welcoming, like Spike was the same person who had left it the evening before.Spike stood inside the doorway and broke.

 

All the tears that wouldn’t come earlier came crashing out, ripping through his chest and throat until he felt like the sobs would shake him apart, until his knees gave out.Donna caught him and pulled his head down to her shoulder, rubbing her hands across his back.He hung limply in her arms, his chest heaving with tears.His crying eased slowly, until he was leaning against her, empty.Donna reached up and smoothed his hair.It was still sticky with blood; he hadn’t actually washed it at the hospital.

 

“Will you let me wash your hair?” she asked quietly.He nodded against her. 

 

She led him to the kitchen, wrapped a towel around his shoulders and helped him lean his head over the sink, then wet his hair with warm water and worked a lather into it.She rubbed slowly at his scalp.It was a tender, calming movement.Spike felt tears pushing at his throat again.

 

“They saw,” he said, his voice rough and thick.“They know.”His breath was shaky as he tried to swallow back a sob.Donna’s fingers stilled for a moment, then resumed their slow massage.

 

“They know that a terrible thing happened to you,” she said gently.“They know that they will love you no matter what.”She ran the warm water over his head and he watched it drain away, tinged pink with blood.Donna used the towel around his shoulders to rub his head, then flicked her fingers through his damp hair to settle in into place.

 

When she was done, he stood straight and didn’t move.He couldn’t seem to figure out what to do next. 

 

He didn’t need to.Donna led him to his bedroom and put him to bed, pulling the blankets up and smoothing them across his shoulders.She made to leave, but Spike reached out and grabbed her hand again, twisting her fingers with his, holding on.He wanted to ask her to stay but couldn’t find the words.

 

Donna seemed to understand.She sat down on the edge of the bed and held his hand, using her other hand to rub slow circles across his back.Spike closed his eyes and let himself be lulled to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

When he awoke, there was a moment before he remembered.Then he moved to stretch and his abused body lit up with pain, aching at every movement.He groaned.

 

He stood under the hot water of the shower for a long time, then in front of the misted mirror for even longer.There were scrapes across his cheeks and the man’s handprint stood out red and purple on his neck.Marks from his fingers dotted his hips.Bruises bloomed in his shoulders and chest.It seemed odd to him that bruises and scrapes were the only outward indication, that he was somehow physically whole.There seemed to be a mismatch between what he felt and what he saw.He felt like he had been gutted and pulled apart, but he had survived relatively unscathed. 

 

He dressed in soft running pants and a sweatshirt that was too big: one of Ed’s that he had borrowed and never returned.Donna had stayed overnight.She was waiting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee and a plate of eggs.They sat across from each other as Spike ate.

 

“Ed called.He’s having the team over and wanted to know if you’d join them,” Donna said quietly.Spike froze.He should have seen it coming, really.It was what they did after a hard call.They gathered together to eat and talk and blow off steam, a way of reassuring each other they were all in one piece. 

 

Spike didn’t know if he could do that. 

 

Donna watched him shrewdly.

 

“You don’t have to.You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” she continued.“But the longer you leave it, the harder it will be.”

 

“I know, and I want to.I just—“ Spike broke off.The last time they had seen him had been in the basement.The thought of them looking at him and _knowing_ made his heart race with anxiety.

 

“They just want to see you somewhere safe.”It was as if Donna had read his mind.He ate a forkful of eggs without really tasting them. 

 

“Okay,” he said.Donna smiled at him.

 

“It’ll just be Team One and Wordy.I’ll drop you off and go.”

 

Spike shook his head.

 

“Please stay,” he said.He had clung to Donna since the basement, and the idea of being without her made him nervous.He couldn’t bring himself to say that though, so instead he added, “You’re still part of Team One.” 

 

“What is this, the mob?” she teased.“Once you’re in, there’s no getting out?”Spike looked down at his eggs.

 

“Something like that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Everyone was already there by the time Donna and Spike arrived.Donna gestured for him to go in first and everyone was hovering near the door, waiting for them.They clustered close, making a little semi-circle around him and he realized that they were waiting for his lead.They wouldn’t touch him without his permission and that was both a relief and a loss.He thought of the way the team checked in with each other with a touch and a glance; the way Ed ruffled his hair after a close call and how Jules didn’t believe you were in one piece until she had her arms around you.He realized he didn’t want to give that up. 

 

He reached out a hand to Jules, who wiped at her eyes with a small sob and hurried to him, grabbing him up in a fierce hug and holding on.The tension in the room eased and the others broke apart.Ed came over to where Jules still held him, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion.

 

“Isn’t that my sweatshirt?” he asked, plucking at one sleeve.Jules laughed into Spike’s chest.

 

“Not anymore it isn’t,” she said.“Get off.”She batted Ed away playfully and led Spike over to the couch.

 

Spike spent the morning curled up in the deep cushions of Ed’s couch, letting the chatter and activity of his team wash over him.They didn’t ask any questions of him and it was nice to sit without demands.Soon enough, he was drowsy, soothed half asleep by the drone of conversation. 

 

He stirred when the conversation broke apart and fell silent, the change in volume dragging him back awake.Ed and Greg were across the room, talking quietly and he heard the others clattering in the kitchen.Ed must have set them cleaning, he thought as he raised his head and blinked.

 

Greg looked over at him as he moved with a smile.

 

“Are you back with us?” he asked.

 

Suddenly, static filled Spike’s ears and his vision turned too bright.His heart lurched and pounded and he couldn’t breathe.

 

“Oh good,” the man said through the static.He felt the man slide in him until he was filled, until Spike couldn’t take any more.“You’re back with us.”His head spun and he panted, sucking in air and getting nothing.He was dying.One hand clutched at the shirt above his heart and he leaned over, shaking and trying to swallow against the sudden dryness of his mouth.He couldn’t breathe.He couldn’t breathe.

 

“You’re having a panic attack, Spike,” he heard Ed say, as if far away.The fact that Ed stated it so calmly, that he could put a name to the frantic beating of Spike’s heart helped ease some of the static in his ears and the brightness of his vision dimmed. 

 

Ed crouched in front of him.

 

“Focus on your breathing, try and slow it down,” he said.Spike tried.His heart thumped in his ears.

 

“I can’t,” he gasped.

 

“Yes you can,” Ed said firmly.“Yes you can.Follow me.”He breathed in slowly and Spike tried to copy him.Slowly, Spike felt each breath giving him air, felt his heart calm.

 

“I know it hurts,” Ed said quietly as he breathed.“I know it’s going to hurt for a long time.And one day when you think it’s over, it’ll hurt all over again.So if it hurts, I want you to tell me, okay?Even if it’s the middle of the night.Even if I’m old and gray and in a nursing home.If it hurts, you tell me.Copy?”

 

Spike nodded.He looked down at his lap, where his other hand was clenched in a tight fist on his thigh.He felt tears start to ache in his throat.

 

“Ed, it hurts,” he whispered, voice strained. 

 

“I know, buddy,” Ed whispered back.“Can you tell me how much?Scale of one to ten?”

 

“Nine.”Ed nodded, taking it in.

 

“Let’s start with some water and take it from there,” he said.He rose and left for the kitchen, leaving Spike swallowing back tears, his mouth still dry.When he returned, he pressed a glass into Spike’s hand and knelt down in front of him again.

 

“I made an appointment with a counselor.Will you go?” he asked.Spike nodded.

 

Ed took him then and there, driving across the city to an office where Spike sat on a lumpy couch and spent the next hour falling apart in front of someone he didn’t know.Though Spike felt shaky and spent at the end, that nine turned into an eight. 

 

After, Ed took him out and bought him a burger, sitting across from him and stealing his fries as he ate.

 

“Will you go back?” Ed asked.Spike nodded.

 

“Every day for a while, then twice a week,” he told him.He paused, his eyes sliding away from Ed.“She—uh—She won’t let me go back to work.”Ed nodded and stole another fry.

 

“I know,” he said.“When you’re ready, you’ll come back.You have a place on Team One and always will.”

 

“That’s what I told Donna.”

 

“Oh?And what did Donna say to that?”

 

“She said we’re like the mob,” Spike said and smiled as Ed laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

He had left the basement, but in the weeks after, he couldn’t seem to escape it.When he woke, the aches and bruises in his body were constant reminders and when he slept, he returned in his dreams.Spike tried getting drunk once, the scary, blackout kind of drunk that had only happened one other time in his life.It worked, for a while.At least, if he dreamed of the basement, he didn’t remember it when he woke up.But everything else was so much sharper the next morning, the guilt and shame and pounding headache.He woke up on the couch in last night’s clothes with cups and bottles and debris littering the apartment and the thought of moving made him want to die.Instead, he pulled a pillow over his eyes and wished that he could just stop for a while. 

 

A knock sounded on his door.It wouldn’t go away and when he didn’t answer he heard Ed calling.

 

“Come on, Spike, answer the door.Don’t make me break it down.”

 

Spike couldn’t bring himself to care.He turned his face into the couch cushions and let himself fall into oblivion.

 

He woke later to fingers pressing against the bruises on his neck that had just begun to fade, feeling for a pulse.He jerked, batting the hand away.

 

Greg knelt in front of him, keys in hand.Spike had given him a spare set after his mother had left for Italy.Ed stood behind Greg, arms crossed against his chest, his mouth and eyes tight with worry.He hadn’t needed to break down the door after all.

 

“Spike,” Greg sighed.He scrubbed his hands over his face.“Buddy, this isn’t the way.” 

 

Spike didn’t answer.Greg, however, was relentless.He pulled Spike up, chivvied him along and into a shower while Ed poured any alcohol he could find down the sink.Then Greg took him outside and they walked, slow and silent, out into the sun and around the block.The sun on his face helped wake him up and he realized it was the first time he had really moved without the ache and pull of torn muscles. 

 

He was healing, he realized.Physically, at least. 

 

When they returned, Ed had thrown the empty bottles into the recycling, loaded the dishwasher with cups and cleaned the detritus of Spike’s bad decision away. 

 

Greg was right, Spike realized.The alcohol didn’t help.

 

What did help was to stop trying.Spike stopped counting days.He told the time by the rhythm of waking, sleeping, and therapy.He let himself exist as he was now, to get used to the new edges of his life.After Spike’s drunken stupor, Ed called him every morning before shift and at least one person from the team showed up at his door in the evening, food in hand.On the busy days, they lost track of whose turn it was and two or three of them showed up, each with a different dinner.Food gathered in his fridge and Spike ended up not needing to cook for a month. 

 

Spike decided to collect data, keeping a record of anything that sent him back to the basement and anything that brought him out again.For a while, what took him back was the expected stuff: anything around his neck, the feel of concrete on his knees, anyone who came up behind him unexpectedly.The other list grew more slowly: a gentle walk and a hot shower.

 

After a couple of weeks, Spike began to predict the sticking points in his daily life and began to stray further afield, wandering the city and walking into every shop.He would have to, he knew, when he rejoined the team, and he needed to know what to expect.One morning, he asked Jules to put him in handcuffs and spent the rest of the day regaining his shredded equilibrium.On another, he asked Wordy to run him through some self-defense drills and ended up giving him a black eye.He couldn’t remember doing it and Wordy wouldn’t let him apologize. 

 

It wasn’t the same; he wasn’t the same person as before, but he learned to navigate the pitfalls of his new life.His eight and nine days became sixes and sevens, then fives.

 

Finally, on a bright Monday morning, he sat across from the therapist as she handed him a slip of paper declaring him fit for duty and told him she would see him on Thursday.

 

When he handed the paper to the boss that afternoon, Greg looked at him with such pride, he thought he would burst. 

 

The next morning, Ed greeted him with a smile and a quiet “Scale?”

 

“Three,” Spike said.

 

“You know what that means?” Ed asked with a wicked grin.“That means you get to run the obstacle course today.”And Spike groaned in mock dismay.

 

They were called out the next day, to a man with a hostage and a gun.They had him backed into a corner, Sam and Raf to the left and right with Spike in the middle, covering the boss.Jules was in the truck while Ed went high.The man had his hostage on her knees with the gun to her head, pale and scared. 

 

Spike was trying not to grind his teeth.The man kept looking at him.He’d look at Greg to answer his questions, then his eyes would slide to Spike and rest there.Spike had started the day at a solid two, but this guy was pushing him up, past a three and into a four.Spike knew this was the kind of thing Ed needed to know, but he couldn’t figure out a way to tip him off.Behind him, Greg must have sensed something.He put a hand on Spike’s shoulder.

 

“Why don’t you let the young lady go?” Greg said.“We don’t need her to finish our conversation.”

 

“You don’t need to worry about her,” the guy said.“She’s just a slut, and sluts belong on their knees.”

 

He looked at Spike as he said it, with a slight smirk, and Spike froze.He knew, suddenly, that this guy had seen the video and liked it, maybe even got off on it.People recognized him occasionally now.A stranger on the street would meet his eyes, blush with embarrassment and look away.Spike had learned to breathe through it.Those people only knew about the video because it had spread like wildfire.They’d seen his picture from the news or a still frame of the video, but hadn’t actually seen it, just knew about it.Spike hadn’t yet come face to face with someone who had watched the rape.

 

This guy though, he’d watched the whole thing.He looked Spike up and down and Spike couldn’t move, could no longer feel Greg’s hand on his shoulder. 

 

Sam cut in front of him smoothly, at the same time Greg pulled him back.Spike let himself be pulled and then kept going, stumbling back until he was out of the building entirely and in the clear air.He slung his weapon over his shoulder and put his hands on his knees.He felt the memory of the man holding his head still, pushing past his lips, felt the hard length hitting his throat and Spike gagged, retching on the grass.

 

Jules came running up to him, her mouth set in a thin, furious line.She was so angry, her hands shook as she cracked a bottle of water open and passed it to him.It was comforting, Spike realized, to have someone angry on his behalf while he was too busy trying not to fall apart to do it himself. 

 

“Spike?” she asked, her voice gentle despite her anger.“Ed wants to know—“

 

“Seven, maybe,” he cut her off.“Eight.I don’t know.”They must have finished negotiations, he realized, the call must be over.Raf appeared a moment later, leading the young woman with a hand at her back, murmuring something reassuring to her.Greg followed soon after, with the guy in handcuffs.Spike could feel his gaze land on him, leering.Jules shifted, blocking him from view. 

 

“I shouldn’t be here,” Spike said breathlessly.“I put you all in danger.I’m sorry.“

 

“No,” Jules snapped.“He doesn’t get to take this.You’re not going anywhere.”

 

Ed appeared at his other side.He fished in his pockets with one hand and pulled out a packet of gummy bears, handing them to Spike.Spike took them, confused.

 

“If someone pulls shit like that, you get to eat junk food,” Ed explained with a shrug. 

 

Spike spent the next 20 minutes on a bench in the sun, sipping his water and munching on candy.It helped to have something else in his mouth, something to ease the memory of a cock hitting the back of his throat. 

 

It wasn’t until they were back at the station and Spike was in the shower, letting the hot water melt away the last of the panic, that Spike considered that Ed might not have been entirely truthful.It’s not like gummy bears were part of the standard equipment list.Ed had seen the moment coming and had found a solution: something to distract Spike from his memories.

 

If gummy bears hadn’t been on the equipment list, they were now.The next day, Spike found them stuffed into the glove compartments of the SUV’s and tucked into one corner of his locker. 

 

* * *

 

 

At first, Spike didn’t read the incident report.He knew what had happened and he didn’t think he needed to read the gory details, laid out plain to see in black and white.But then he’d be breaking down a door and wonder _how did they find me?_ or up to his eyeballs in a hacker’s code and think _who called it in?_  

 

He was on a bomb call when he finally decided he had to know.He had turned off the radio for some quiet to help him think, trying to match the schematics with the wires in front of him and did he cut the blue wire or the green?And what was the yellow one for?And his mind just wouldn’t shut up about it.

 

He clicked his radio back on and the murmur of his teammates returned.

 

“Hey boss?” he asked.He was surprised at how calm he sounded, what with the bomb that he hadn’t defused yet still in front of him.“Who took the shot?”Silence fell on the radio. None of his team needed to ask what he was talking about. 

 

“Spike, I don’t think—“ Greg started.From 50 feet away, Spike saw Ed cut him off with a gesture, then turn to face Spike, hands on his hips.

 

“I did,” Ed said.“SIU cleared me that afternoon.I texted Donna, but she said you were already asleep.”

 

“Not that they had much of a choice,” Greg added, sounding grumpy and disgruntled.“If they hadn’t cleared him, they would have had the entire police force to answer to.”

 

“He was going to kill me?”He meant it as a statement, but it came out more of a question.He could remember the threat, remembered the relief he felt that the rape would be over soon, but the last few moments were trapped in a haze of despair, raised voices and a lightning pain that shivered through his bones.He knew there had been a gun, but couldn’t remember if it was loaded, if the man had meant to follow through or not.And if he hadn’t meant to, if the gun wasn’t loaded, then did that mean that Ed had shot him out of rage and revenge?

 

“He put his finger on the trigger, Spike,” Ed said quietly. 

 

Spike nodded to himself.His eyes flicked between the wires.He thought he might have it figured out.He reached out with the cutters and snipped the blue wire.

 

“Spike?” Ed prompted.

 

“Bomb diffused.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I want to read the file,” Spike said as Greg drove them back to the station.Greg nodded silently and didn’t argue.

 

Ed and Greg met him that evening in the conference room, while the rest of the team lingered just outside and pretended to talk.They sat on either side of him as he read, from the first word spoken into the radio, to Greg’s summary, to his own statement that he couldn’t even remember making.It all seemed to say both too much and not enough at once.Spike wasn’t sure what he had been looking for in the file.He just knew that he hadn’t found it.The black and white report didn’t tell you how profoundly his life had changed, or how hard he had worked to get it back.

 

“It doesn’t say,” he said, flipping back to the first page.“How did you know I was missing?” 

 

“Someone texted Dean the video,” Greg said.“He recognized you from the thumbnail and called me.”Spike felt a little shocked at that.Dean was a teenager.

 

“And Clarke?” he asked Ed.Ed shook his head.

 

“Didn’t watch it.”

 

“Neither did Dean,” Greg said.“He just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

 

“And—“ Spike swallowed, suddenly nervous.It seemed he had come to the point that he really needed to know, a place he hadn’t even been aware of.“And did any of you—“

 

Ed laid his hand palm up on the table, an invitation.Spike, shivering slightly with nerves, didn’t take it.Instead, he grabbed at the hem of his shirt, picking at the fabric with his fingers.Ed clenched his fist, thumping it softly on the table.

 

“We were there, Spike.We’ve seen enough,” he said.Some of the tension left Spike.He hadn’t realized he had been carrying that worry around.

 

“Is there anything else you want to know?” Greg asked quietly.Spike nodded.

 

“Am I—“ he started, then stopped.There were so many things he wanted to know, and they all pushed at his tongue to be said first. _Am I safe?Am I going to hold on to this forever?Will I ever be able to put it down?_

 

_You’re here for me to break_ , the man had said and Spike needed to know if he had. He thought he might have, could feel the cracks in his life—some poorly patched and some still gaping—every morning when he woke up.But he didn’t know how to ask.

 

He didn’t need to.Sometimes it helped to work with the city’s top negotiator. 

 

“You are not broken,” Greg said.He laughed a little, his voice catching with emotion. 

 

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?Spike, you’re the glue.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Leah returned to Team One, something had changed and no one was saying what it was. 

 

At first, she just noticed little things, like the gummy bears that littered the SUVs and the way Ed checked in with the team before each morning workout.Slowly though, she began to narrow it down to Spike.He was the only one who ate the candy—usually in a tense, distracted silence— and he was the only one Ed really wanted an answer from. 

 

Then there were the numbers.On some of those pre-workout check-ins, Spike would sail through the station and announce to anyone listening that the sun was shining, Babycakes was working perfectly and today was a one, and some days he would answer Ed with a quiet “four.”One day, during a debriefing, he had flashed six fingers across the table to Ed, then left the room.Jules had offered up a hand as he left, and he had taken it with a quick squeeze, but then he hadn’t returned for nearly thirty minutes.On another, they had been creeping towards a gunman, slow and lethal, and Spike had snarled into the headset “If this guy turns my two into a five then we are going to have _words.”_ Leah had laughed.It wasn’t until she was falling asleep that night that she realized she was the only one who thought it was a joke. 

 

The team re-evaluation came up a couple of months after her return and she was confused when Dr. Toth walked through the door and the team greeted him without a word of anger.She was even more confused when Toth started with Spike and took him for a slow walk around the edges of the training grounds while the rest of the team ran sprints under Ed’s watchful eye.

 

“I thought this was the guy who hooked people into a polygraph while he made you squirm?” she panted to Sam during a break. 

 

“He does,” Sam replied, unconcerned.“But Spike doesn’t do well with cameras in his face.”

 

“You’re all taking this very calmly.I thought Ed would be ranting,” she said.Sam smiled.

 

“Don’t worry, he’s not here to break us up this time,” he replied, but then didn’t say what Toth _was_ there to do.

 

Toth and Spike ended their slow walk and Sam took Spike’s place.Leah noticed that Sam didn’t get a walk.They disappeared inside, probably to pull out the fabled polygraphs.Ed split them into pairs to spar, Greg and Jules, then Spike and Leah. 

 

Leah managed to get the upper hand on Spike and she pulled him around into a chokehold, breathless and proud that her time away from the team hadn’t dulled her hand to hand.But then Spike turned on her, his fist connecting solidly with her jaw.Leah fell and Spike followed her down, fist raised to strike again.All at once, Leah realized that Spike wasn’t going to stop.He would keep punching her until she was bloody if she didn’t do something.The others converged on the two in a rush of shouting, Greg and Ed pulling Spike away.Leah lay on the ground, stunned.Jules pulled her up and offered her a towel.Leah dabbed at her lip. 

 

“We don’t put Spike in chokeholds,” Jules said. 

 

“Yeah, I’m getting that,”Leah shot back, unable to keep the dry sarcasm from her voice.Jules grimaced at her in apology.

 

“I didn’t realize no one told you.We haven’t had anyone new in a while.” 

 

But the truth was, no one _still_ hadn’t told her.She had a fat lip and no more information than when the sparring session had started. 

 

It didn’t matter, Leah decided later that night.Team One was still the best and if Spike was a little twitchy, well, it was clear that whatever had happened hadn’t been good.They all had their own ghosts to deal with. 

 

Later, though, she wished she had pushed a little harder.They were serving a warrant on a drug lord and Leah and Spike were in charge of clearing the bottom floor, a basement, by the blueprints. 

 

Everything had gone to plan.The team went in at the same time to cover all the exits and Leah and Spike had crashed through the back door, no problem.The hallway was empty and Spike had cleared the room on the right, while Leah went left.It should have been easy.

 

Except the room on the left had a young woman cuffed to the radiator.She was half-naked, wearing a dirty t-shirt and no pants, her face and legs mottled with bruising.She lay curled on the hard floor and cowered away from them when they entered.The room smelled of damp concrete tinged with blood.

 

Leah called it in immediately.It wasn’t expected, but it also wasn’t a surprise. 

 

“We have a young woman here.We’re going to need an ambulance.”Then she had turned to Spike.

 

Spike was on his knees, hunched over almost in half with his hands and arms pulled into his stomach.Leah panicked for a moment, thinking he had been shot.But when she patted him down, peeling his arms away by force, it was clear he was uninjured.He was making strangled, panting noises, like a dying animal.

 

“Spike?Spike!” she called.He didn’t answer, unable or unwilling, Leah couldn’t tell.In the end, she carried him outside over her shoulder, setting him on his side as gently as she could, then went back for the girl. 

 

“Ed, I need help,” she called over the radio.Spike was curled on his side, eyes wide and staring, unseeing, and the girl was only marginally better.At least she was on her feet. 

 

The girl bolted at the sight of Ed sprinting towards them and Leah had to leave Spike in a huddle on the ground and go after her.She managed to catch her and lead her over to the SUVs, where she wrapped a blanket around the girl’s naked legs and waited with her until the ambulance showed up, away from the men being led out in cuffs.

 

After she handed the girl over to the medics, she went back to Spike.The team was ranged around him in a ragged half circle, like a protective line that couldn’t be crossed.Leah hovered behind them, unsure if she should join.In the middle of their little circle, Ed knelt with Spike. 

 

He had managed to get Spike off the ground, but only barely.They were both on their knees, with Spike’s face pressed into Ed’s chest and his fingers clutching at Ed’s vest so hard that his knuckles were white.Ed rested his chin on Spike’s head and wrapped both arms around him, one hand trailing fingers through his hair while the other smoothed across his shoulders.He rocked them slightly while Spike shook in his arms, an uncontrollable shake that seemed like it would break him apart.It was eerily quiet. 

 

Behind them, the mess of the hot call was clearing.A medic appeared and was sent away with a quick shake of Greg’s head.Finally, Ed murmured something and Spike nodded against him, the first deliberate movement Leah had seen him make since he kicked down the back door.They stood together and Ed led him by the hand to the cars.As they passed her, Spike stumbled a little and Leah could see that he didn’t quite know where he was, was still halfway trapped somewhere else. 

 

The line of the rest of the team broke apart.Greg caught her eye.

 

“You’re with me,” he said. 

 

They drove back together, blanketed by a heavy, awkward silence.

 

“I think I deserve to know what happened back there,” Leah said at last.Greg nodded.

 

“You do,” he agreed.“But it’s Spike’s story to tell and I want to give him a chance to tell it.See me tomorrow after shift if he doesn’t.”

 

Leah waited around after, sitting in the conference room until the station was dark and quiet and she began to wonder if Spike had gone home.She was just about to go when he appeared at the door, a file in one hand.He was wearing soft, worn sweats and a sweatshirt, the kind that Leah usually reserved for eating a whole carton of ice-cream on the couch after a hard day.His face was hollow and red, his hair damp.He looked like he’d just spent the last hour sobbing his eyes out under a scalding shower.He sat down heavily in the chair across from her.

 

“I owe you an apology,” he said, his voice ragged and uneven.Leah frowned.

 

“I’m not sure that you do,” she answered.Whatever this was, it wasn’t just a ghost.It was the kind of thing that you didn’t apologize for.Spike shook his head, cutting her off.

 

“No, I do,” he insisted.“I was selfish.When you came back to the team, you were maybe the only cop in the city who didn’t know.The only one who didn’t look at me and see—see _that_.And I didn’t want to give that up.But I’m supposed to have your back and you deserve to know why I didn’t today.” 

 

He slid the file across the table to her, then stood, his mouth pressed into a crooked, unhappy line.He looked like he wanted to say something else, then shrugged and left. 

 

Leah opened the file carefully.Now that she had answers in her hands, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know them.She had to read the file in sections. She read the transcript first, and Greg’s report, then took a break to storm angrily around the table a few times.Then Spike’s statement, halting and confused even in text, and she could hear him, the cracks in his voice as he spoke and backtracked and talked around the things he couldn’t say.She sat back after and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as they stung with tears.Finally, there was a doctor’s report, with a photo attached to the front and Leah couldn’t bring herself to read it.The picture of Spike, bruise livid on his neck, his eyes blank and staring, told Leah more than the text ever could. 

 

Leah closed the file, pushing it away from her and looked up to find Greg leaning against the doorway.

 

“Spike said you had it,” he said.“Thought I’d check in on you.”Leah stared at him, unable to speak.What did you say, after learning something like that?

 

“Look, the rest of the team lived through it,” Greg continued.“So we’re…careful… with Spike.”

 

Careful was the right word.It summed up the changes she had seen so succinctly.They didn’t treat Spike any differently—he was still Spike, after all, and still cracked terrible jokes and still needed Greg to tell him to get to the point— but they didn’t startle him, didn’t prank him, didn’t slap him on the back after a call.They didn’t touch him at all, Leah realized suddenly, unless Spike touched them first.Leah, unknowing, was the only one who would.When she had met the team again after her return, she had pulled Spike into a hug and you could have heard a pin drop.Spike had laughed and hugged her back, but it was clear the team was shocked.

 

“Don’t let this change what you two have together,” Greg said.“He needs someone who wasn’t there.”

 

When Leah saw Spike the next day at the morning briefing, Spike looked at her hopefully, then his face fell and he turned away, slumping in his seat.She had done it, she realized.She had looked at him and seen what happened.He had lost the one thing he hadn’t wanted to give up.She braced herself, squaring her shoulders and trying to relax.

 

“Are you ready to rock this bright and sunshine-y day?” she asked, punching Spike lightly in the shoulder.Spike turned to take in the rain that spat on the window and sank a little lower in his chair.

 

“Come on,” she continued.“Don’t make me come over there and turn that frown upside down.”Realization dawned on Spike and an amused sparkle lit his eyes.He sat up straight, a smile slowly creeping over his face.

 

“You’d have to catch me first,” he said.Leah scoffed.

 

“Easy.You may be a geek with combat skills, but you’re still a geek.”Spike bolted out of the conference room.

 

“Winnie, save me!” he cried.

 

“No one can save you now,” Leah called as she stalked after him, then froze.Suddenly she knew why the team was so careful.What if she hurt Spike with her phrasing? 

 

Greg dodged Spike as he passed, eyes on a file in his hands.

 

“Careful, children,” he admonished mildly.Then he looked up at Leah and winked, jerking his head towards Spike with a smile.Leah nodded back at him.The rest of the team couldn’t tease Spike like this, and Leah understood why.So she would do it for them.

 

* * *

 

 

A hurricane hit Haiti, and all her hard work, all the rebuilding, disappeared under crashing waves.Leah stood in the middle of her living room with one hand over her mouth as she watched the reports of the devastation on the news.Her phone sat on the couch, silent.She hadn’t been able to reach her family. 

 

Someone knocked on her door.Spike stood on her front step, holding a case of beer in one hand.Except it wasn’t beer, she saw.It was bottles of soda and water.She let him in without a word, unable to leave the TV for long in case anything changed.Spike followed, setting the case of drinks on the coffee table and taking in the way Leah couldn’t bring herself to sit down.

 

“Your family?” he asked.Leah shook her head, tears stinging her eyes.If only they would call—If only she could get through—

 

“Can you tell me how much it hurts?” Spike asked quietly.“Scale of one to ten?”

 

Leah understood then.Finally, she understood all those numbers.When you didn’t have the words to tell someone how much your heart hurt, or how much your life seemed to be falling apart around you, one number could say what you couldn’t.

 

“Seven,” she said, her chest and throat tight with tears.Spike nodded.

 

“Okay,” he said.He reached for the drinks and grabbed one of the bottles of water, twisting the cap open and handing it to her. 

 

“Let’s start with some water and take it from there.”


End file.
